


Still George Bernard Shaw

by Python07



Series: Kingsman Meets Craiglang [5]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Still Game (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mild Language, Pre-Slash, references to George Bernard Shaw's Caesar and Cleopatra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richmond Valentine and George Bernard Shaw have one thing in common: both wankers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still George Bernard Shaw

Eggsy and Merlin sat outside on the back patio with their tea, chips, and sandwiches. The day was comfortable jeans and sweatshirt weather with a slight breeze. The Kingsman grounds were still perfectly manicured, giving an illusion of calm to the new world they’d woken up in.

Eggsy sipped his tea. “What now? Valentine may not have succeeded but he still fucked everything up.”

Merlin put his sandwich down on the table and wiped his mouth. “Luckily, we don’t have to fix everything, just a few things at a time. We can only do what we’re able, nothing more, nothing less.”

Eggsy munched on a chip. “How many world leaders lost their heads?” he asked blandly.

“From what I can tell, all the ones that he didn’t lock up in his bunker to keep them safe.” Merlin sighed heavily. “I had no idea how many of them there would be when I pressed that button.”

Eggsy held Merlin’s gaze. “You did what you had to do, guv,” he said solemnly.

Merlin didn’t look away. “I know,” he said quietly, but firmly. “I will do so when necessary but killing is never easy, nor should it be.”

Eggsy sat up straighter. “It was them or us and the world needed us. I can’t say that I’m sorry they’re gone. Instead of trying to stop Valentine, they went along with his genocidal ideas.” He paused and leaned forward. His voice came out as an intense whisper. “Everyone who is important to us would be dead right now. Mum and Daisy. Jamal and Ryan. Your Da and Victor and their gossipy neighbor.”

Merlin reached across the table to cover Eggsy’s clenched fist. “Easy, Eggsy.”

Eggsy grabbed Merlin’s hand and held on tightly. “I know he and all his followers are dead, but I’m still right pissed. What gives assholes like Valentine the right to decide who lives and who dies? Bloody wanker!” he snarled.

Merlin squeezed Eggsy’s hand. “Aye. He was a wanker.”

“A bloody wanker!” Eggsy shouted at the top of his lungs. He took a moment to look around the posh grounds and glanced at their joined hands before dropping his eyes. He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Merlin chuckled. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I agree with everything you said and you can shout it from the rooftop if you want.”

Eggsy chewed on his bottom lip and slowly pulled his hand away. “Still, shouting like that isn’t something a gentleman would do.”

Merlin relaxed back in his chair. “Oh, I donae know about that,” he replied easily. “Harry almost started a pub fight when he started yelling at the telly during a Stoke/Arsenal match.”

Eggsy’s jaw dropped. “Harry watching football? You’re takin’ the piss.”

Merlin held his hands up. “I’m serious.”

“Was it during a mission?”

“Nae.”

“Was he drinkin‘?”

Merlin shook his head. “Nae. Harry took his football very seriously.”

Eggsy snickered. “Harry would’ve liked Arsenal. Football that’s posh, style, and flair. I heard one of them announcer blokes call them aesthetically-pleasing.”

Merlin laughed. “Actually, Harry was a Stoke fan.”

“Our Harry? The same man who said manners maketh man?”

“Aye. He liked the aggressive, in-your-face style of play.”

Eggsy bounced in his seat excitedly. “You’ve made my day, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed again but said seriously, “The point is that being a gentleman doesnae mean that you cut out the fun from life or have to be something your not. It doesnae mean you have to be subdued and somber. It means being the best man that you can. Manners are but a part of that.”

Eggsy nodded thoughtfully. “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow men. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self.”

“Hemingway. That was one of Harry’s favorites. Have you heard this one? A gentleman is one who puts more into the world than he takes out.”

Eggsy shook his head. “Nah. Who said that?”

“George Bernard Shaw.”

“Statistics show that of those who contract the habit of eating, very few survive,” Victor said dryly. He waved a hand in front of Isa’s face. “Isa.”

Isa blinked and looked away from where they’d nailed a piece of broken coffee table over the broken window. “What was youse sayin’?” she asked dully.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Isa,” Jack drawled. “He was quoting that Irish wanker, George Bernard Shaw.”

The three of them sat around Victor’s small kitchen table. They had cups of tea and peanut butter sandwiches. Isa fiddled with her cup. “It’s lucky you have that camp stove, Victor.”

“Aye.” Victor sat forward and nodded to her food. He gave her an encouraging smile. “Eat, Isa. You need your strength.”

Isa put her cup down and hugged her arms across her stomach. “I’m nae hungry.”

“You should at least try.”

“I said I’m nae hungry,” Isa snapped.

Victor eased back. “All right,” he said soothingly. “All right. You can eat it later.”

Jack finished his in two quick bites. He swallowed and took a drink. “Aye, that’s right. It’ll be here when you want it.”

Isa’s shoulders slumped. She sighed and looked around listlessly.

The boys looked at her and then at each other. Jack barely raised his eyebrows and Victor nodded imperceptibly. Jack cleared his throat. “I thought you had better taste than that, Victor,” he scoffed. “George Bernard Shaw.”

Victor sat up straight and bristled in mock indignation. “The man’s writings are masterful. Masterful, I tell ye.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “You’re talkin’ a lot of pish. He’s rubbish.”

Victor pointed at Jack. He took on a posh voice. “Mr. Shaw won a Nobel Prize for Literature and an Academy Award for Best Screenplay.”

Jack rolled his eyes. He let is accent get thicker in direct contrast to Victor’s. “Like that means anything’. A bunch of know-it-all wankers giving an award to another condescending wanker.”

Victor’s eyes got comically wide. He pointed at Jack. “You, Jack, are a Philistine.”

“Oh, please,” Jack shot back. “I can gie ye a prime example of his pish from Caesar and Cleopatra.”

Victor held an arm out to encompass the room. “By all means. The floor is yours.”

Jack stood. “Aye. Picture it. I’m Caesar, right. I’m standing in front of the Sphinx and it’s all huge and imposin’, right? Am I afraid.” He stiffened his spine. “Not one bit. I approach it. Like this.” He circled the couch. “Brave.” 

Victor laughed. “Yes, you’re Caesar.”

Jack struck a heroic pose directly in front of Isa. He took on an overly dramatic pitch. “Hail, Sphinx. A salutation from Julius Caesar. I have wandered in many lands, seeking the lost region, from which my birth into this world exiled me. And the company of such creatures as I myself. I’ve found flocks and pastures, men in cities, but no other Caesar. No heir native to me, no man kindred to me.” 

They both noticed Isa’s face flush. She bowed her head and looked to be fighting back a case of the giggles. Victor motioned for Jack to keep going.

Jack puffed his chest out and continued, “None who can do my day’s deed or think my night’s thought. In little world yonder, Sphinx, my place is as high as yours in this great desert. Only I wander, and you sit still. I conquer, and you endure. I work and wonder, you watch and wait.”

Isa’s shoulders started shaking in silent laughter. She didn’t look up but they could see her biting her bottom lip. Victor mouthed at Jack to go on.

Jack nodded. “Sphinx, you and I, strangers to the race of men are no strangers to one another. Have I not been conscious of you and of this place since I was born? Rome is a madman’s dream. This is my reality. My way hither was the way of destiny, for I am he of whose genius you are the symbol.”

Isa couldn’t hold it in any longer and started laughing out loud. She sat up, took her glasses off, and wiped away tears of laughter. She clapped. “Finish it, Jack. Please.”

Jack grunted as if it was a hardship. He slipped back into his normal voice. “Oh, all right. For you, hen.” He went back to the Caesar voice. “Part brute, part woman, and part god. Nothing of man in me at all.”

Isa cackled with glee. “Smashing, Jack.”

Jack bowed and winked at Isa. “As I telt ye, Victor. Complete pish.”

Victor grinned. “That was magic.”


End file.
